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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24355363">The Rats are Getting Bigger! The 'Hot Mess DragonDads are Back' Remix</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camelittle/pseuds/Camelittle'>Camelittle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awesome Gwen (Merlin), Baby dragons - Freeform, Domestic Fluff, Dragon Dads, Dragons, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Jealous Arthur, M/M, Merlioske-friendly, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Merlin (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:16:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,845</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24355363</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camelittle/pseuds/Camelittle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was bad enough that Merlin had to keep both his magic and his almighty crush on the prince a secret, while simultaneously having to occupy a space next to the room where Arthur bathed, slept and changed. But having to hide a baby dragon as well? Intolerable.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>531</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Camelot Remix 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Rats are Getting Bigger! The 'Hot Mess DragonDads are Back' Remix</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/fifty_fifty/gifts">fifty_fifty</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22235281">Dating, Dragons, and Disasters</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/fifty_fifty/pseuds/fifty_fifty">fifty_fifty</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A canon-era remix of fifty_fifty's FABULOUS modern AU,</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22235281">Dating, Dragons and Disasters</a></p><p> </p><p>Dearest Fifty. This gift is for you, with heartfelt thanks for all the time and effort you have put into modding fests for us to enjoy, and above all for gifting us with the genius of your gorgeous stories. I hope this damn pandemic starts treating you better soon. Love and hugs x<br/>With huge thanks as always to my betas and cheerleaders T, C and L, for their encouragement. &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he was alone in the privacy of his quarters, Merlin passed the parchment from Gaius over a candle. The flame heated the secret writing and beneath the original text, a hidden message gradually began to emerge in Gaius’s spidery scrawl. Merlin read it with trembling hands and a mounting sense of alarm. </span>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote><hr/><p>
    <em>
      <span>I am sorry, dear boy. It does seem that I have left you in the lurch, rather. But I was not to know that this would happen. The egg had been dormant for centuries. I had no idea it would choose to hatch while I was away. It is rather inconvenient, I concur, but you must guard it with your life. Keep it close and keep it safe. The fate of the kingdom depends on this little creature. </span>
    </em>
  </p><p>
    <em>
      <span>I suspect from what I can find here in Northumbria about such beasts that you alone, as its first human contact, can care for it as it grows. When it hatched, it imprinted on the first thing it saw, like a bird. And that first thing was you. It thinks of you as its mother. </span>
    </em>
  </p><p>
    <em>
      <span>It will need plenty of meat and bones. And you should keep it entertained. I have never had to look after a baby dragon before, but if they are anything like kittens they become very destructive when bored. From one of the texts that I have read, it may start hoarding shiny objects – much as a magpie might. I would advise keeping the beast away from Arthur’s chambers and other places where valuables may be situated. Maybe let it play with some trinkets that you do not have any other use for? </span>
    </em>
  </p><p>
    <em>
      <span>It will need exercising at least once a day, outside. This is very important. Dragons grow very quickly and to keep pace with its appetite it will need to be able to hunt as soon as possible. So it must learn to fly. </span>
    </em>
  </p><p>
    <em>
      <span>I’m sure you will be fine. After all, your father was a dragonlord. Just take care not to leave it alone for too long. If it gets lonely, it will come looking for you as its master. And it has magic.</span>
    </em>
  </p><p>
    <em>
      <span>Please take care of it, and yourself. It is imperative that you do not let Arthur see it! </span>
    </em>
  </p>
<hr/></blockquote><p>
  <span>“Thanks a bunch, Gaius,” muttered Merlin under his breath as he scanned the back of the parchment for any more clues about what to do (there were none). This whole situation was rapidly becoming intolerable. Not only was he stuck in a room next to the subject of his painful crush, but now he also had to raise a magical and dangerous creature in secret. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not for the first time, Merlin inwardly cursed his mentor, for going away to study in Northumbria with Geoffrey. Finding the cursing cathartic, he extended it to embrace Aedmund, Camelot’s temporary replacement apothecary, for chasing Merlin out of Gaius’s chambers; to Uther, for his continuing and irrational hatred of all things magical; and above all, to Arthur, for being so horribly attractive and oblivious to Merlin’s tender feelings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were some perks to moving into this space – most notably his bed, which was comfortable, warm and beautifully sprung, and thus a huge improvement on the lumpy cot that he slept on in Gaius’s chambers. But the disadvantages outweighed these advantages by far. It was bad enough that Merlin had to keep both his magic and his almighty crush on the prince a secret, while simultaneously having to occupy a space next to the room where Arthur bathed, slept and changed. But having to hide a baby dragon as well? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Intolerable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without warning, the door flew open. Merlin hastily cast the scrunched up parchment into the fire. At the same time, he threw his counterpane across the bed, covering the little dragon up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Burning love letters?” said Arthur, who was standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame, arms crossed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Merlin backed away, to block the view of his bed from the door.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without replying, Arthur nodded over to the fire, where the parchment was catching fire and beginning to curl at the edges. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! That! Haha.” Merlin bit his lip. “Um. It’s from Gaius, actually, you nosy parker. Not that it’s any of your business. Don’t you ever knock?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I?” With an amused smirk, Arthur used his bum to push himself away from the door, striding towards the tiny window of the antechamber Merlin currently occupied, where he paused and pulled open the curtains. He peered down at the courtyard beneath. “You never do, after all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The counterpane twitched and a clawed foot poked out. Alarmed, Merlin dropped a discarded neckerchief on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But…” Merlin sidled along the side of the narrow bed, ensuring that his body was between Arthur and the dragon and praying that he’d get through the day with his head intact. “For all you know, I might have been…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might have been what?” Turning back, Arthur lifted his brows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know.” Merlin swallowed and made a vigorous movement with his hand. “Indisposed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed.” Arthur’s eyebrows lifted if anything a little higher, and he raked Merlin with an intent gaze before adding, “and has it occurred to you that I might be similarly… </span>
  <em>
    <span>indisposed</span>
  </em>
  <span>… on any of those frequent occasions when you enter my chambers without knocking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, sire,” lied Merlin, mouth dry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Indeed, the thought was occurring to him at that very moment. With what might be described, given his already heightened state of stress, as unfortunate consequences for his own comfort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, perhaps you will be more careful in the future. If so, then perhaps this unforeseen trip of Gaius’s may already have borne fr—” Arthur tailed off, craning his neck to peer around Merlin at his bed, a frown puckering his brow.  “What the—?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the matter?” said Merlin, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur lifted an accusing finger. “Your counterpane!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My counterpane? What about my counterpane? There’s nothing wrong with my counterpane. It’s a very fine—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that, you imbecile! I’m not critiquing your interior decorating, although obviously it does leave much to be desired. No, what I’m pointing out here is the fact that it… There! It did it again!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur rolled his eyes. “It moved.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It did?” Damn the prat for being so observant. Merlin bit his lip and stared at the counterpane. A conspicuous bundle beneath it scuttled to the other side of the bed. He cast about for a plausible excuse. “Oh! That! Um… It’s… Well, it’s the rats, you see.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rats?” said Arthur, with an aghast expression that might have been funny in less stressful circumstances. “In your </span>
  <em>
    <span>bed</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no. Of course not. Haha. That’s funny. Haha!” Merlin racked his brains for something more sensible. “It’s… Um. No, well, I…I borrowed a cat! From the kitchens. To deal with them. The rats, that is. And… she’s doing it. Dealing, I mean. Now. Under my. Um. Counterpane. Good cat! Well done, puss!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patting the counterpane down with one hand, hoping that he looked nonchalant, Merlin pressed his lips together and prayed that the dragon would not emerge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, get rid of it, Merlin. I will not have some mangy old castle moggy leaving fleas all over my chambers.” Arthur strode away, pausing to lean on the doorframe. “That sort of thing might be all right in Gaius’s living quarters, but I have standards. I mean it. You’ll just have to catch the rats some other way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without waiting for an answer, he turned and stalked out of the room, banging the door shut behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course! At once, sire!” called Merlin through the closed door, relieved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur’s retreating footsteps tap-tapped across the floor of the adjacent bedchamber. Another door slammed and then there was blessed silence. After checking that Arthur’s room was indeed empty, Merlin locked himself in with a brief, muttered spell. Once his pulse rate had settled, he whipped the counterpane off his bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dragon blinked up at him and chirruped enquiringly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a menace,” sighed Merlin, wanting to be stern but failing. The little dragon was so cute and forlorn-looking. “Whatever am I going to do with you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A second later, she hiccuped, letting a tiny wisp of smoke out through her mouth. A crest on her head rose up in alarm and she squawked at the smoke, scrambling backwards on unsteady hind limbs as if to escape it, cheep-cheeping and hiccupping in panic, her breath leaving tiny scorch marks on the bed clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heart melting, Merlin rushed to comfort her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, silly. It’s meant to do that.” He picked her up, stroking her iridescent crest. It fluffed up, soft and warm against his fingers. Her eyes closed as she rubbed back against his hand, chest rumbling in contentment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you purring? Do dragons purr?” Disarmed, he let out a chuckle and held her close against his chest, crooning. “I suppose you’ll need a name. I can’t just call you “the beast” all the time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cheeped at him again, as if in agreement, and nudged his fingers. Warmth spread through his chest and a word sprang unbidden into his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aithusa! I shall call you Aithusa,” he decided. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peep, peep!” she agreed in a melodious tone that made him beam with sudden affection. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That night, Aithusa slept with her tail wrapped around his shoulder, warm and snug, her neck draped across his chest, making it vibrate as she purred. He woke at first light as usual. A chink in the curtains let through the first grey awakenings of the day, and outside a cock crowed. Aithusa’s weight was hot and heavy on his shoulder and he pushed her off carefully, taking care not to wake her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Overnight, while he was sleeping, she had deposited a pile of neat little packages on the stone floor. Wrinkling his nose, he scooped them up using an old piece of parchment and dropped them carefully into the chamber pot that he kept under his bed. They fizzed slightly on contact with the bowl, sending up a cloud of some noxious substance or another, and the resulting acrid, sulphurous, smell made his stomach turn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my god!” Holding his nose, he dashed over to the window, opening it and wafting out the fumes. “What </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>you been </span>
  <em>
    <span>eating</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Aithusa just burped sleepily, staring up at him wide-eyed from the bed. Blinking, she puffed up her wings, then set to work cleaning them with her tongue, showing a delicacy that belied the rancid smell she had produced. He couldn’t help smiling, charmed by her offended shrug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have to get some herbs from the kitchen gardens to get rid of the smell,” he decided. For now, he muttered the spell that he sometimes used to fumigate the stables. When his inner Gaius started to castigate him as it always did for using his magic for such a frivolous purpose, he quashed his conscience by reminding himself that if Arthur caught him with a dragon in his chambers, eviction would likely be the least of his worries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Meep!” said Aithusa, voice taking on a piteous tone. “Meep!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up, little one?” A surge of protectiveness overcame him and he knelt back down on the bed to stroke her muzzle. She turned her head and nipped at his fingers with small, sharp teeth that drew blood. “Ow! I guess you’re hungry!” He sucked the blood from his thumb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peep!” she said imperiously as she started to savage the counterpane. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right, all right!” He dragged it away from her, replacing it with the first thing that he could find, which happened to be one of Arthur’s tarnished old vambraces. “Chew on this for a moment and I’ll find you some food. But you need to be quiet. We can’t have Arthur snooping around in here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t help thinking that she understood him perfectly from the way that she chirruped and sat back on her hindlegs, tail whipping back and forth like that of a cat. She patted the vambrace and dabbed it with a forepaw, dodging beneath it so that her claws skittered across its surface.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like shiny things, don’t you,” he chuckled, remembering what Gaius’s note had said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking to go down to the kitchens before Arthur woke as usual, and collect some sausages to help feed the little fledgling, he went to the door between his antechamber and Arthur’s bedroom, and tugged it open a crack. Sure enough, a tuft of blond hair and the occasional gentle snore betrayed the fact that he was not yet awake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time he got back from the kitchens, however, Arthur was sitting up in bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where have you been?” he demanded, with characteristic impatience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right, all right, keep your hair on.” Merlin balanced the tray on his hip and placed the plate on Arthur’s desk, hoping that the prince would not notice how heavily laden his pockets were, filled as they were with sausages and bacon that he’d filched from the kitchens. “Cook made me wait for a pie to finish, that’s all. Here, it’s still hot.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pie?” Arthur’s mock-frown cleared and he lifted the silver dome from his plate with glee. “Mm! You could learn a thing or two from Cook, Merlin. She knows how to treat a prince.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spoiled royal prat, more like,” Merlin muttered, because the pie did smell delicious and he was hungry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, Merlin began to think that things would work out all right, because Aithusa did not seem to want to leave his bed. When he was absent, she would curl up into a ball with her head cradled on her forepaws and her tail protecting her beautiful, whirling eyes from the light. She slept for much of the day, in fact, and much of the night as well, waking only to let out a flurry of hungry noises and spread her bejewelled wings. She would take small pieces of uncooked chicken from his fingers and crunch contentedly on the bird bones that he gave her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remembering Gaius’s instructions, Merlin created a little nest for her in the bottom of his wardrobe, and started to leave beads and bits of copper filched from Gwen’s forge hidden around his room. Sure enough, if he hid them well enough she would have great fun rummaging around in his drawers and beneath the cot bed to find them. The pile of shiny things in his wardrobe began to climb higher and higher. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t help feeling a sense of pride at her daily achievements but at the same time, if she carried on learning at this rate, it would only get more difficult to keep her hidden from the inquisitive prince. At least she was still quite small. She could just about reach things that were at thigh height if she stood up on her hind legs and stretched up her neck as high as she could. But she was growing fast, and it didn’t take long before he began to struggle to keep up with her appetite. With Gaius still not due back from Northumbria for another month or more, he knew he would have trouble if he could not find a way to teach Aithusa how to fly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This particular day started well, lulling him into complacency. At training, Arthur bested an array of visiting dignitaries and managed to give Gwaine a black eye to boot, which always put him in a good mood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See? That’s how you do it,” Arthur proclaimed to the admiring squires who had lined up along the lists to watch, his smile wide and shoulders lifted high in triumph. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gracious in defeat, Gwaine shook the dust out of his hair and struggled painfully to his feet to shake Arthur’s hand and wave at the cheering crowd. As the only knight who ever came close to defeating the prince in a straight fight, he was a popular figure in Camelot, with many fans and admirers of his own. Taking a moment to adjust his belt, he raked his hand through his hair, flicked his sword up off the floor with one practised move, bowed to the victorious Arthur and winked at Merlin before swaggering off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur, though… Arthur was in a class of his own. The sunlight glinted on Arthur’s hair as he tilted his face to the heavens in salute and lifted his sword up high. The squires cheered. Merlin’s heart swelled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gods, can his head get any bigger?” whispered Merlin to Gwen out of the corner of his mouth, with an exaggerated eyeroll that did nothing to hide his inner pride at Arthur’s prowess. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even you have got to admit that it’s impressive, the way he wins every time, Merlin,” she whispered back. She tilted her head on one side and flashed him a winsome smile, one that he recognised as heralding a deep psychological insight that Merlin would rather keep hidden. “And it’s sweet, how he keeps turning to check that you’re watching.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boom! Damn Gwen for being the cleverest of all the people he knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He bloody does not,” said Merlin, nudging her in a vain attempt to hide the blush that was busy spreading heat up his cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, he bloody does.” She nudged him right back with the pointy bit of her elbow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bang on cue, Arthur turned to lift his chin at Merlin and beam at him so brightly that Merlin couldn’t help grinning right back, adding a little wave for good measure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See?” She elbowed him again. “You’re so besotted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh. You’re a fine one to talk.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin adopted a high-pitched voice. “Oh, Lancelot, let me fix your armour. Oh, Lancelot, you look so tired, can I bring you anything? Oh, Lancelot, you’re so handsome…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop it!” The elbow dug into his side again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You stop it! That hurts!” He rubbed at the spot in mock outrage. “I notice you’re not denying anything!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither are you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both laughed behind their hands, only stifling their giggles when Morgana approached. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you are, Gwen. Attend me in my chambers, my dear. I need you your advice on…” her gaze darted to Merlin and back and she bit her lip. “On that thing we were talking about yesterday.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On... ? Oh! That! Of course! Of course, my lady.” Gwen dropped a curtsey, and waved at Merlin apologetically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waved them both off. “It’s all right, I know when I’m not wanted.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he turned back again, Arthur was standing over him, glowering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’ve quite finished gossiping…” Arthur tossed something at Merlin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin caught it without thinking and then grimaced as he realised that it was a wet, sweaty towel. “Ugh! That’s disgusting!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get that cleaned up and then have a bath set up in my chambers.” Arthur turned his back and stalked off to the armoury. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So far, so normal. After dropping the disgusting towel off for laundering, Merlin dashed back to Arthur’s chambers, where he burst through, hoping to organise the bath before the prince returned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But instead of a neatly ordered bedchamber, he encountered a chaos of scorched feathers, shredded bedclothes, frayed curtains, and an unsavoury pile of what looked like candlewax glueing Arthur’s best travelling cloak (or what was left of it) to the stone floor. Everything up to the height of Merlin’s hip was charred or chewed or both. Worst of all were the rich tapestries that adorned Arthur’s bed. Normally held in place by a thick, golden rope tassel, they hung instead in tattered ribbons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Presiding over this horrific scene from her vantage point on the ashes of what had once been Arthur’s favourite rug sat Aithusa, scolding him with little chirrups and gusts of ashy breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no!” he breathed, hand on his forehead. She must have got hungry while he was gone. “What have you </span>
  <em>
    <span>done</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She chattered out a protest at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t give me that!” He wagged a finger. “I left you a dozen sausages and half a ham!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a piteous squeak, she launched herself at the ruined tapestries which she clutched at, hanging on by her forepaws to scrabble up them. Then she launched herself up into the air, flapping her wings frantically, falling a moment later into a wailing, caterwauling heap on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you poor little thing,” he said, heart melting in a second at the heart-rending sight of her rolling, indignant, on the bare flagstones. “You’re just hungry, I know. It’s all right, I understand. I’m not really angry!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Picking her up, he placed her in her usual vantage point on his left shoulder where she nuzzled at his ear, making tiny apologetic crooning noises. He sighed and surveyed the devastation, scratching at her crest. “But look what a mess you’ve made! What on earth am I going to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clotpole would be back any minute, and there was no way that Merlin could possibly get all this cleared up in time without liberal use of magic. Closing his eyes, he summoned the most powerful cleaning spell that he could and unleashed it on the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instantly, the garments started to mend and fold themselves. With a wave of his hand, he removed the scorch marks from Arthur’s bedlinen. Another gesture rehung the curtains and stacked molten candle wax into new, fresh white candles with unused wicks. A hasty waggle of his finger dispatched with the acrid droppings that were still smouldering on the remnants of Arthur’s favourite rug. One final flourish restored the rug to its former glory and sent a gust of lavender-scented fresh air through the room to get rid of the smell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Satisfied with the now-tidy appearance of the room, Merlin used the last vestiges of his magical energy to summon Arthur’s bathtub and fill it with water, before scuttling off into his own private antechamber and depositing Aithusa upon her mounting hoard in his wardrobe. More than one of Arthur’s socks adorned this pile, as well as several ornamental buttons that he was sure should be adorning Arthur’s best ceremonial cloak, but he did not have time to fix the situation right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here!” he croaked, fishing an emergency sausage from his pocket. “Sit here, and don’t move, while I put the prince off. Stay out of sight! And no more mess, understand?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Meep!” agreed Aithusa, catching the sausage which he tossed to her in a fluid movement of his wrist. Grasping it in her hindclaws, she settled down to rip it into delicate pieces that she tossed into her mouth one at a time, making contented little belching noises. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crisis averted, Merlin sidled into Arthur’s room as quietly as he could, pausing only to lock the door to his chamber. But when he turned, he leaped back in surprise because Arthur was standing mere inches away, arms crossed, and face twisted into an expression of deep suspicion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who have you got hidden in there?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No-one!” Merlin shook his head vigorously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard someone belching.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nobody! I’m just hungry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And there was a voice! A male voice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talking to myself! First sign of madness, haha.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In your case, it’s far from the first sign, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mer</span>
  </em>
  <span>lin,” growled Arthur, sidestepping first to one side, and then to the other, finding Merlin blocking his path in both cases. “Let me pass!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haha, very funny, sire. But there’s no-one in there, honest. It’s just my room of course.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If there’s no-one there, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mer</span>
  </em>
  <span>lin, then you won’t mind unlocking it for me to inspect.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unlock? Oh! No, you wouldn’t want to go in there. Horribly messy. Haha. Um.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “You’d better not be hiding someone in there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hiding someone?” said Merlin, panicking inwardly and spreading his arms out in a desperate attempt to block the doorway. How the hell had Arthur worked that out? “Why would I be hiding someone? I don’t know anyone! Who would I be hiding? And where would they hide? I only have a small cupboard. They’d have to be quite small. Haha. Not that I’m hiding anyone small, I mean. Why would I—?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoever’s been writing you love letters, perhaps?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love letters? No, haha, that was just Gaiu—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or else maybe… maybe Gwaine—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Nonplussed, Merlin gaped at him. “Gwaine? Gwaine’s not small!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And how do you know that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh?” Completely wrongfooted now, Merlin frowned. What was the prat getting at? When the penny dropped, Merlin realised what he’d just said. “Oh! I see what you… haha, you think Gwaine… and me? Haha. He’s… well, he does have a reputation but… I wouldn’t know that, obviously… Maybe he is small? Although the chambermaids do say—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So he’s not in there?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course he’s not! You can look if you like…” As he stepped away from the door, Merlin crossed his fingers behind his back, praying that Aithusa had obeyed his instruction to stay out of sight. “It’s locked, no-one can get in or out, and in the meantime, are you sure you want to delay your bath? It’s just the right temperature right now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur frowned. “Are you trying to distract me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no!” Damn. The prat was being particularly stubborn, today. Maybe a touch of flattery would work? Arthur could never resist recounting his victories, especially for some reason the ones that he had over </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gwaine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “It’s just… you must be weary, sire, after defeating Gwaine so thoroughly. He’s a rogue, and a great fighter—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that great,” interjected Arthur with a peevish scrunch of his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin rolled his eyes. “…I was going to say that he’s no match for Camelot’s finest!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, of course, it’s true. I’m ten times the fighter he’ll ever be.” Puffing up his chest, Arthur lifted his chin to reveal a haughty, imperious and, above all, </span>
  <em>
    <span>lickable</span>
  </em>
  <span> jawline of such elegant perfection that it made Merlin lose his train of thought for a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um… of course. Of course you are,” he stammered out, eventually, tamping down the urge to pepper that arrogant jaw with worshipful kisses. “I mean…” He gulped and closed his eyes for a moment to recover his equilibrium. “How… just how did you manage to trip him like that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm? Well, it’s simple, you know.” Arthur’s mouth tipped up at one corner. “Gwaine always forgets to guard his left side when he feints, so I can catch him off balance… it’s something to do with all that hair of his, I think it drains his brain or something. No-one else has noticed it, I did it quite sneakily, did you see?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Amazing skill, sire.” Thank all the gods, Merlin’s strategy was working. He suppressed a smirk and gestured towards the tub. “You deserve a piping hot bath, after that. It has lavender in, just as you like. Here, let me help you get ready—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” Arthur did yawn, then. “I am very weary, it is true. Did you see Gwaine’s face when I tripped him up?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haha, yes, Sire! It was a picture! You really did show him who’s boss.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did, rather.” Arthur chuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sensing victory, Merlin pressed on. “He’ll have a black eye for days! Now, if you’ll just get yourself ready, I’ll make sure that the bath is the perfect temperature.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I give the orders around here, Merlin!” admonished Arthur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But at the same time, he stepped behind his screen. When a sweat-stained undershirt appeared over the top, Merlin heaved a sigh of relief. It looked like he might have got away with his delaying tactics. Now all he needed to do was to make sure that Aithusa was hidden from view before the suspicious prat had a chance to follow up on his threat to inspect Merlin’s room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Arthur emerged from his bath, pink and glistening, his hair plastered endearingly to his face, his mood had lifted and he had returned to crowing about his earlier victory over Gwaine. He even dressed without complaint, in a plain white linen tunic that made him look positively edible, ready for dining with his father and Morgana. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Merlin rummaged around in the wardrobe for a suitable jacket, he dared to begin thinking that he’d got away with the deception.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But before he could heave a final sigh of relief, there was a sudden explosion of ire from behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Arthur yelled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of reflex, Merlin ducked, narrowly avoiding being struck by a boot that had been hurled at his head, at high velocity. It thudded harmlessly against the wall before falling into a forlorn heap onto the ground. “What did I do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, by all that is holy, has happened to my favourite </span>
  <em>
    <span>boot</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frowning, Merlin retrieved said article and winced. It was more hole than boot. And the edges of the holes were peppered with gnaw marks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um. Rats?” he ventured. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Rats?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” said Arthur, incredulous, holding up the other boot. “I can get my whole arm through this hole! Look!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, well, um,” croaked Merlin. “I think… I think they might be getting bigger?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>scorched </span>
  </em>
  <span>Merlin. Did you drop it in the fire?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah.” Relieved that the prat had come up with a plausible explanation, Merlin nodded. “Oh. That. Yes, I um. You know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You buffoon! You utterly ham-fisted, clumsy cabbage brain!” Arthur towered over him, hands on hips, and fired off a tirade of such startlingly inventive swear words that Merlin couldn’t help being impressed and not a little aroused at the same time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So much for putting Arthur into a good mood with a bath. He was more waspish than ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gods, Arthur was hot when he was angry. All powerful and filled with intent. But much though the spectacle of the irate, ranting prince, red faced and choleric, made Merlin feel all mushy inside, he couldn’t help thinking that it wasn’t healthy for Arthur’s constitution. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, yes, there was no doubt about it: Merlin had to find a way of teaching Aithusa to fly, and quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A master falconer had come to Camelot once, and flown a variety of birds of prey for display. Merlin had seen him training the birds. It didn’t look that difficult. They just whirled bits of meat around their heads, and the birds flew around after them, landing on their gloves or something. How hard could it be? Inspired by this example, Merlin amassed some supplies and determined to sneak out to train Aithusa in a similar way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it wasn’t easy sneaking out when he had to walk through Arthur’s bedchamber to get to the outside world. With a cautious peep around the connecting door between his room and Arthur’s, Merlin gauged that the situation was quiet and clutched the large leather satchel to his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peep peep peep!” chittered Aithusa, one claw poking out of the side of the satchel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh!” he said in response. “Stay in there! Keep quiet! And keep those claws inside! We can’t let the prat see you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Meep!” Aithusa wriggled a bit, but withdrew the claws as if she had understood his instruction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In an effort to avoid repeating the boot incident, he had decided to risk taking her out to a fallow field an hour’s walk from the lower town, to try to get her airborne without the risk of discovery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As well as carrying the satchel containing the dragon, he had filled his pockets with her favourite snacks and trinkets, which he hoped to use as a lure in the same way that the falconer had coaxed the hunting birds to return when he flew them. He also had some thick leather gloves to fly her from, although given what had happened to Arthur’s boots, he wasn’t sure that they would be adequate for the task, so he had reinforced them with magic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she did manage to get airborne, the bond that they shared would bring her back to him anyway. He was almost certain of that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped through the door and closed it quietly behind him. But as luck would have it, Arthur chose that moment to burst in through the doors of his bedchamber, cursing and tossing his gauntlets onto the bed. “Bloody Lancelot. Damned fool of an idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arthur!” With an involuntary start, Merlin clutched the bag containing the dragon to his chest and prayed that Aithusa would not manage to send one of her claws out again. “What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It may have escaped your notice, Merlin, but this is my bedchamber.” Turning to face him, Arthur glared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin stared back at him, dumbly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Close your mouth, Merlin, you’ll catch flies.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you went out on patrol,” Merlin burst out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s highly observant, Merlin, for you at least, but the fact is that I’m back now.” Yawning, Arthur sat on his bed and examined his hand, flexing his fingers vigorously. “Damned Lancelot managed to roll his horse on my sword hand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no!” Merlin edged towards the exit and freedom, one hand behind him, feeling for the door frame, while the other held the satchel tight to prevent Aithusa from escaping. “Is the poor horse all right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur rolled his eyes. “Oh, thanks a bunch, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mer</span>
  </em>
  <span>lin. Here I am with my sword hand potentially permanently damaged and all you can ask about is Lancelot’s damned horse?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Permanently damaged my arse,” muttered Merlin under his breath, noting the perfectly expert bandaging that someone (Aedmund, presumably) must have bound it with, and the perfectly normal freedom of movement Arthur had in his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides which, he could always tell when Arthur was properly hurt. When sustaining life-threatening injuries, the prat would go all still and silent and noble, claiming that he was fine. In contrast, when he went all petulant and whiny like this, it just meant that he wanted sympathy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I may never lift a sword again,” pouted Arthur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no, sire,” Merlin ventured. “You poor, poor thing. Let me call Aedmund immediately. Shall I bathe it with unguents? Or perhaps a sleeping draught would help? I’m sure it hurts horribly. You should rest it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now you’re taking the piss.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, sire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Besides which, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mer</span>
  </em>
  <span>lin, don’t you think I’ve seen Aedmund already? Why did you think I’m in here talking to a half-witted bumpkin and not out on the training ground with my men?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t know, sire!” Merlin retorted. “I’m just a half-witted bumpkin, after all. What do I know of the ways of capricious dollopheads and their equally dollopheaded knights?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He backed towards the door while he spoke, glancing behind him. Escape was nearly in reach… so close…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you going?” Eyes narrowing to curious slits, Arthur nodded at Merlin’s satchel, still clutched in his hands. “What have you got in there?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bang on cue, Aithusa wriggled. Merlin made a show of pretending that he’d initiated the movement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me? Hmm? Oh, this empty old bag? Haha! Nothing!” He patted the bag as if to illustrate how empty it was</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>look </span>
  </em>
  <span>empty. What are you sneaking out with.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sneaking? As if, haha. I’m an open book!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really are a terrible liar, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mer</span>
  </em>
  <span>lin, if that’s what you mean. Anyway, I can see that it’s heavy. It’s banging against your side.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I see, haha! It’s got tools in, I mean to say. I’m going to fill it up though, because I’m just… I’m going to… to collect some… some herbs. For Gaius.” Merlin gestured vaguely towards the door and resumed his progress towards it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gaius? But he’s in Northumbria.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but I can dry them for him,” said Merlin, thinking so fast that it made him blink, and counting on Arthur’s ignorance of matters horticultural to help him with his bluff. “When he gets back. Dandelions, you see. They’re in flower now. I need to pick the flowers and dry them, the stalks and leaves aren’t any good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aithusa chose that moment to let out a plaintive squeak, which Merlin managed to cover by coughing as loudly as he could, hand pressing down firmly on the satchel to avoid her making a bid for freedom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nasty cough you’ve got, all of a sudden,” said Arthur, eyes glinting a dangerous, flinty blue, head tilting on one side. He pressed his lips together as if trying to work out a riddle. “Are you sure you’re all right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, sire! Just a bit of hay fever. Right as rain! And I’ve got to go! Need to harvest those flowers before the sun gets too high!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin backed through the open door and made a hasty exit, slamming it behind him with a swift movement of one foot. Breathing hard, he dashed out and skidded down the corridor in an attempt to reach the outside world before anyone could stop him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merlin!” yelled Arthur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Back soon, sire!” Merlin cried over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bababa!” echoed Aithusa in a muffled voice, sounding for all the world as if she were mimicking his speech. “Bababababasa!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh! And stop enjoying yourself,” hissed Merlin through his teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The training did not go well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they were out on the field, away from the prying eyes of gorgeous princes and their ilk, Merlin settled the satchel on the ground and rested Aithusa onto his gloved hand. Her claws dug into the leather. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow!” he cried. “Cut that out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bububuh!” she said, shaking her head and digging in even more firmly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Resigning himself to the fact that his arms would be scratched to smithereens by the end of the morning, he gritted his teeth. He tossed the lure that he’d fashioned at the end of a rope into the air, whirling it around his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on. Fetch it then!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Aithusa, instead of chasing after it as he’d seen the falconers’ birds do, just sat on his arm, claws dug in deep enough to scratch, and preened, mimicking Merlin’s voice with soft noises of her own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I give up. Go on!” Giving up on the lure, he picked her up and threw her little body up into the air. “Flap your wings, Aithusa!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wings outstretched, she landed on her feet, protesting loudly and folding her wings back down by her side, before sitting down and starting to preen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got to flap your wings!” he said, in what he hoped was an encouraging voice. Maybe he needed to show her what he meant? Feeling like a bit of an idiot, he lifted his arms and ran round and round in circles, flapping them up and down. “Flap, flap, flap!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But instead of lifting herself up with her wings, Aithusa ran round and round in circles with him. “Pap, pap, pap!” she chattered. “Pap, pap, pap.” She seemed to be enjoying herself enormously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a game!” he cried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But after what seemed like several hours of coaxing, encouraging and cajoling, she seemed to be no closer to understanding what he meant. He sat back down on his haunches, discouraged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are we going to do with you?” he said, tickling the crest on top of her head in the way that she liked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tilted her head on one side, eyelids closing in ecstasy. Cute, but no closer to flying than she had been at the start of the session. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Merlin trudged back to the citadel, his thoughts returned as they so often did to visions of what Arthur would do if he saw Aithusa in Merlin’s bedchamber. Would he have Merlin banished? Or worse, burned at the stake? Either way, it was the thought of never seeing Arthur again that made his belly clench in fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it didn’t help that when he got back, Arthur was still in his chambers, staring at a piece of parchment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice of you to turn up, Merlin,” Arthur said, narrow-eyed and suspicious. “You took your time. What herbs did you gather?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um…” Merlin swallowed. “Seems that Camelot is clean out of dandelions, unfortunately.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your arms are scratched to smithereens!” Arthur nodded at Merlin’s bare, bleeding forearms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm? That?” said Merlin, thinking fast. “Oh! Yeah, I… I… I… Brambles everwhere! Nasty scratchy things.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur sighed, stretching in a weary way that did nothing to hide the play of his muscles beneath his shirt. “Look, Merlin. I’m not an ogre. I understand that you have… needs.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ri-ight…” Confused, Merlin took a wary step into the room. “…um…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I may have been somewhat… churlish, earlier.” Arthur carried on, with an uncharacteristic hesitancy that normally he only displayed when thinking about difficult topics like emotions and so forth. “But… it’s my duty to protect my staff, not to control them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, sire,” said Merlin, more to fill the gap offered by a pause in Arthur’s speech than for any other reason, and wondering when Arthur was going to get to the point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… so, what I mean is… what I mean is that I… I… I won’t stop you if… if…you...” Arthur made a strange gesture with his hand. “You know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know! </span>
  <em>
    <span>See</span>
  </em>
  <span>ing someone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Seeing</span>
  </em>
  <span> someone?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. If you are… all I ask…” Arthur cleared his throat. “Well. All I ask is that you do your duties.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Puzzled, Merlin edged towards his door, hoping that Arthur wouldn’t hear the tiny snuffly snores that the exhausted baby dragon was making inside his bag. “That’s… that’s… I mean, that’s kind, Arthur, but I’m not… I mean, if I were, I’d be very… but…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What I mean to say is…” Staring up at the ceiling, Arthur carried on as if Merlin had not spoken. “If Gw— someone is courting you, as long as they are not mistreating you, I would never stand in your way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was another silence then, during which Arthur looked at him, all blue eyes and noble jaw, his brows lifted in enquiry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks?” hazarded Merlin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But if Gw— they do harm you in </span>
  <em>
    <span>any way</span>
  </em>
  <span>…” tailing off, Arthur took a pointed look at Merlin’s scratched forearms. “I will show no mercy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he seemed to be awaiting some kind of response, Merlin nodded dumbly, still not sure what the clotpole was getting at. “Good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You may go.” Arthur turned back to contemplating the parchment on his desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Relieved that he hadn’t twigged about the dragon, Merlin filed this odd behaviour away and gave a helpless shrug before side-stepping into the relative safety of his room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so it was that, several days later, despite Merlin’s best efforts, Aithusa still showed no signs of learning how to fly. Merlin was beginning to despair when, early one morning, he was standing with Gwen and a bunch of other castle servants by Camelot’s well, filling flagons of water. A robin that was perched on a wall nearby trilled at them before flying off, which gave him an idea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gwen?” He touched Gwen’s arm, breaking into the conversation she had been having with one of the stable boys about horseshoes. “Gwen! Can you tell me something?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to check Beric’s hooves today, Anton.” Gwen was saying, in earnest tones. “Hengroen is fine, now, but I can’t help noticing that Beric’s got a crack in the shoe on his hind hoof—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beric was Lancelot’s horse. Gwen was understandably more than a little obsessed with Beric’s welfare, and had a tendency to ramble on a bit about it if left unchecked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...need to take care of that, or Beric will end up getting lamed. While we’re on the subject of Beric, have you checked the leather on his girdle? It’s getting a little worn…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uh-oh. This could go on for a while, and Merlin didn’t have all day, so he patted her shoulder again. “Gwen!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right, all right! What is it, Merlin?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know all about looking after animals, don’t you. What with the blacksmithing and all?” Merlin said, congratulating himself on his genius for asking her, because Gwen was the cleverest person he knew. After Gaius. Well, probably including Gaius, actually. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hardly!” Gwen snorted. “But I do know a bit, yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. How do birds learn to fly?” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You interrupted me in a discussion about Lancelot’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>horse</span>
  </em>
  <span>, by which I mean his honour, safety and welfare, to ask me about </span>
  <em>
    <span>birds</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” said Gwen, an incredulous frown drawing her brows together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.” He lifted up his hands. “It’s not important. Carry on.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got to go, anyway!” said Anton, backing away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Well, goodbye, Anton,” said Gwen, smiling brightly. “And make sure that you see to that shoe. I’d hate to see Beric lamed, or worse Lancelot unhorsed, because of poor blacksmithing. And don’t forget to check the bridle!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he was already running away, at some speed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking her head, she turned back to Merlin. “So what was so important about birds?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, like I said. I’m just curious about how birds learn to fly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tilted her head on one side and flashed him a lopsided smile. “Their parents teach them, of course,” she said. “You’re a country boy, surely you’ve seen them, lined up on a branch, bouncing up and down. I think they copy their mothers. Or maybe their fathers. Or both, probably.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” Bouncing on a branch? That wouldn’t work, obviously Merlin couldn't exactly show Aithusa how to fly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Their parents sometimes give them a push,” Gwen added, helpfully. “But, why do you want to know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No reason! Well, of course there’s a reason. There’s a reason for everything, haha. No, it’s not really true. As Arthur will tell you, I have nothing but fluff upstairs, honestly. Haha.” He tapped his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not… you haven’t—?” She tilted her head on one side. Her mouth opened, and she looked like she was about to say something else, but just then, the bell started to toll. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no, there’s the bell! It will have to wait. I’ve got to go.” She hauled her flagon up onto her head with a practised swing, turned and walked away, hips swaying and skirts swishing, together with several other maids from the citadel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouldering his own burden with a sigh, Merlin trailed after her on the well-worn path, mind still working on how he could emulate the robins and show his own little fledgling how to fly. Because, after a few days of smuggling the baby dragon past an increasingly suspicious Arthur, Merlin was beginning to despair of her ever learning the skill. She would stand upon his gauntlet right enough now, on tiptoe on her hind legs, straining up, with her wings stretched aloft, but even when he sent her up into the air, squawking in disapproval, she would just flutter down and resume her favourite activity of gnawing holes in Merlin’s boots, babbling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lined up on a branch, bouncing up and down,” he muttered to himself as he walked back up the steps towards the citadel. “Bouncing. Bouncing… bouncing!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Abruptly he stopped, spilling water onto the path, as an idea occurred to him. “Wait. That might just work. Gwen, you’re a genius. I can’t wait to try this out! Bouncing! Of course!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran back to Arthur’s chambers, hoping to put his idea into practice at once. But clearly Arthur had other ideas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In a hurry, Merlin?” he drawled, as Merlin burst into the room. In full ceremonial dress where he stood in front of the doorway with his arms crossed, Arthur looked ready to do battle with a visiting diplomatic dignitary. A stray ray of sunshine peeped through the window, silhouetting Arthur’s hair into an unfairly golden halo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Biting his lip, Merlin racked his brains for the answer that would get him some time alone with the dragon. But as always when presented with the force of Arthur’s charisma wrapped up in a bright red Camelot cloak and ready to take on the day, Merlin’s brain, already dull from the early hour, failed to register any great ideas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” Arthur handed him a parchment. “Because my stables need cleaning, my armour stinks, and all the laundry needs doing. Oh, and pick up a new pair of boots from the cobbler, will you? And find my purple linen shirt; I’m dining with father, tonight, and I want to look my best.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sire. Of course sire.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heart sinking, as he realised he would not be getting time to work on Aithusa’s flying for some hours, Merlin grabbed the list and scanned it, biting back a groan of dismay. Arthur really had excelled himself this time. It was almost as if he were making up chores just to keep Merlin busy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time Merlin had finished his chores for the day and packed Arthur off to dinner wearing his purple linen shirt, the sun had long since sunk beneath the horizon, and its final fire lit the sky in a blossom of red and orange. And he was weary. By all the gods, was he weary! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aithusa, on the other hand, seemed wide awake and full of excitement – as well she might, having had no exercise through the day. She greeted him at his door, weaving in and out of his legs and winding her head and neck around them like an eager kitten. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, my little menace,” he said, his fond tone belying the harshness of his words. “Time for some bouncing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He patted the springy mattress by his side, thanking all the gods for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bou-ey!” she chirrupped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She really was getting the hang of mimicking him. So, this might just work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Copy Daddy, then.” He climbed up onto his bed, placing her by his side, and started to bounce up and down, with his hands flapping by his side, feeling faintly ridiculous. The bed springs squeaked out a protest along with each bounce. “Bounce, bounce!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, she just watched him, head cocked on one side, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, her tiny teeth like sharp jewels, looking for all the world as if she were laughing at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” he crooned, laughing back. “It’s fun!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bed springs really were fantastic. He could really get quite high up, nearly hitting his head on the ceiling if he put in a bit more effort and dug with his elbows. It was a good thing that the rooms were roomy in this part of the citadel. As he bounced higher, the bed creaked louder and the frame began to bang against the wall and slide against the flagstones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Copy me! Come on! Up and down you go! It’s fun! You’ll love it!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, she did an experimental jump into the air, landing again on the soft mattress with a surprised cry. And after that, there was no stopping her. After a moment, her wings started to lift on each bounce, as she peeped and meeped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t stop!” he said. “You’re really getting the hang of it, now! It feels amazing, doesn’t it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whee!” she said, in agreement. After a few bounces, she hung in the air for a few seconds with a surprised squawk, her wings flapping madly to keep her aloft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it!” cried Merlin, forgetting to keep quiet in his triumph, but confident that it did not matter because Arthur was busy having dinner with his father and Morgana. “That’s it! Yes! Yes! Yes! Just like that! Keep going! Don’t stop! Yes! Just like that! That’s perfect! Brilliant!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She let out a deep-throated, triumphant cry of her own before landing in a heap back on the bed, whereupon she yawned, opening her mouth impossibly wide, before turning several circles, like a cat, collapsing into a heap and shutting her golden eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s enough for one day, is it?” He chuckled, sitting down next to her, warm and breathless from all the exercise. “I can relate to that. Mr Bossypants, that’s His Lordship the Prince, to you, was particularly demanding, today. God only knows why. Well, I suppose I’ve worked you hard enough. And you deserve a bit of down time before the next round!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is when he became aware of the thunderous knocking on the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merlin!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coming, sire.” What on earth did the imperious bossyface want, now? With a groan, Merlin hauled his aching body off the bed and padding over to the locked door between his sleeping quarters and Arthur’s bedchamber.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open up, you lazy vagabond.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Opening up, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sire</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Yawning, and aware of his probable state of dishevelment, Merlin opened the door a crack to peer through into the room beyond, where his gaze encountered a scowling Arthur with his nose pressed to the crack. “What’s the emergency? Aren’t you meant to be at dinner?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More to the point, who have you got in there?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me?” Merlin laughed nervously. “No one! I’m sleeping, see?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t lie to me!” Arthur’s scowl if anything deepened as he took in the rumpled state of Merlin’s clothes. “I have ears! Let me in at once! You’ve been making such a racket for the past half hour that you could not hear me knocking, you’re… red and… sweaty,” Arthur paused to take a few breaths then and gazed up at the ceiling, blinking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t come in!” Merlin darted a panicked glance over his shoulder towards the peaceful sight of Aithusa, curled into a snoring, reptilian disk on his bed. If Arthur saw the dragon, all would be lost. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For God’s sake, Merlin. Your… your shirt is ripped! Ripped, Merlin! and your hair looks like you’ve been dragged through a hedge… I demand to know what you have been doing, and who with. Have you got Gwaine in there? Because if he is mistreating you, by all the Gods, I’ll…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speech tailing off, Arthur gave the door a massive shove. Unable to withstand the force of Arthur’s strength, Merlin was sent flying by the door bursting open. He fell into an ungainly sprawl on the cold stone flags even as Arthur barged in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck is that?” yelled Arthur, lifting a shaking finger to point. “Merlin! There’s a fucking dragon on your bed!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell’s bells,” Merlin moaned, pressing his hands to his face, unable even to look at Arthur’s face, at his inevitable expression of horror. “That’s torn it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a sharp, metallic sound, as of a sword being drawn. Oh no! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without thinking, Merlin leapt to his feet and scampered over to the bed, standing between Arthur’s drawn sword and Aithusa. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mustn’t hurt her,” he implored. “She’s only a baby! I can explain! It’s… Gaius is… he left the egg with me, he never thought it would… we never meant it to… I mean, he didn’t know she would… she’s only a hatchling, Arthur! I mean, she wouldn’t hurt a fly? She would… okay, so maybe she would hurt a fly, that’s a bad example, and maybe a bird, at a pinch. Or a small creature like a mouse. Actually, probably piglets aren’t safe either, she’s very fond of ham and bacon. But… okay, a cow. A cow would be safe. Maybe not a calf, she probably would hurt one of those, but not me, and certainly not you, and…” he trailed off, suddenly noticing that Arthur’s sword had been lowered. “You’re not angry?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a baby fucking dragon.” To Merlin’s surprise, Arthur dropped his sword and barked out a weak-sounding laugh. He shook his head. “Only you, Merlin! Only a soft-hearted, blithering idiot with no sense of self-preservation would be harbouring a baby dragon in Camelot! All these weeks of you behaving so weird… I thought you had Gw– a man in here with you! It was tearing me up and I thought… I’ve been going mad with… and all along it was only a baby dragon!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gestured towards the bed where Aithusa lay, head on her claws, eyelids closed. As they watched, she continued to snore. The contented rumbling noise made Merlin’s heart swell, unbearably fond. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well.” Merlin cocked his head on one side. “She is quite a handful, actually. So I guess I may have been a little… distracted! But she’s completely harmless and… wait a minute.” Arthur’s previous statement was just beginning to sink in. “What did you just say?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About you being a soft-hearted, blithering idiot?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. After that.” Feeling greatly daring, Merlin approached Arthur where he stood backed up against the door. “You thought I had what in here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur swallowed, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “A… man? I thought maybe you and… and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gwaine?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gwaine? And you were going mad with… with… about </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gwaine</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Merlin’s face was inches from Arthur’s now. He could smell the red wine on his breath from the dinner that he had just had. He must have come racing back to try to catch Merlin red handed with Gwaine. But instead… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Gods, look at you all messy-haired and dishevelled,” groaned Arthur. “It’s more than any man should have to bear.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With an abrupt movement, he closed the distance between them, and suddenly his mouth was on Merlin’s, hot and insistent and sensual, and it felt like being touched by sunshine, and it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>brilliant</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You idiot!” breathed Merlin when they came up for air. “You complete clotpole! As if I would have any man in my bed but you. It’s always been you! It’s only ever been you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur moaned out loud and went in for another crushing kiss that made Merlin’s brain melt and his belly dissolve into a blaze of butterflies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gods, Arthur,” Merlin groaned when he took another breath. “Just think of all the time we’ve been wasting!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s waste no more,” growled Arthur, stepping back into his own bedchamber and pulling Merlin along in his wake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unable to think of any actual words, Merlin let out a heartfelt groan to signal his enthusiastic agreement for this scheme. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>SOME DAYS LATER</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>***</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <span>The stone-lined corridors and courtyards of Camelot’s brave citadel lie quiet and still as the moon rises, casting a ghostly pallor over all that it sees. From the shadows, a pair of figures emerges - one dark, and clutching a bulging satchel; the other, pale haired and athletically built. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quiet, Merlin,” hisses Arthur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was being quiet!” Merlin whispers back. “Clotpole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ababababa!” says the bag, loudly. “Abababa, Mermi. Abababa, Copple.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both men make loud shushing noises. A sudden movement across the courtyard makes them both start. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who goes there!” says Arthur, grabbing a torch and holding it aloft. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might say the same to you!” replies a familiar voice. An elegant young woman steps into the pool of moonlight, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Arthur? Where are you going with that bag?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morgana!” Arthur takes a step back, forgetting that his manservant is standing directly behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow! That was my foot, you clotpoll!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, Merlin. And tell her what we were doing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin gapes at Arthur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um… we were…” Gulping he turns back to Morgana. “I was… I was… Um. Teaching him some poetry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Poetry?” say Morgana and Arthur at the same time, in identical incredulous tones. There is a muffled giggle from behind a pillar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Poetry!” Merlin lets out a half-laugh and walks towards the giggle, keeping his footsteps quiet. “He can’t get enough of it.” Abruptly, he ducks behind the pillar and makes a grab for the arm of the person standing behind it. “Gwen! You, too?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I can hardly let Morgana do this on her own, can I?” Gwen steps out into the light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do what, exactly?” Arthur frowns at Morgana, eyes narrowing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, nothing!” says Morgana. “Just… um… we were… tell her what we were doing, Gwen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Inspecting the horses,” says Gwen, promptly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Inspecting the…” Arthur gapes at her. “What on earth for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lady Morgana was nervous about them, and so we just thought we’d take a look. Not that we think there’s anything wrong with them, of course, haha. No, it’s just… well, I have my suspicions about the quality of some of the blacksmithing, so Morgana said, why don’t we take a look, didn’t you, Morgana?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes, of course!” Morgana nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While they’re dissembling, Merlin eyes the heavy bag that Gwen is carrying. It appears to be moving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait. What’s in there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bag lets out a petulant squawk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That? Oh, that!” Gwen’s laugh is probably meant to be nonchalant, but it comes out as more of a nervous sort of tinkle. “Nothing, just some ladies’ things, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It made a noise!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haha - it’s a um. Novelty. Joke item, you know. For a um. Practical joke?” Gwen bites her lip and gives him a pleading look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a deepening suspicion, Merlin watches the bag. Sure enough, there’s a tiny claw peeping out of the side. “Um… Morgana?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did Gaius by any chance leave you with anything to look after while he was away?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look after?” Morgana repeats in a faint voice. “I don’t know what you…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like… like a um… ornamental… egg? Or something of that sort?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both women turn to him, mouths open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you…?” says Morgana, after a while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin gives them both a wan smile, before opening his bag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merlin, no!” yells Arthur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it’s too late. From the bag emerges Aithusa, one forepaw at a time, followed by her gnarly little head. She looks about, blinking, eyes luminous in the flickering torchlight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bababa!” she chirrups.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aithusa, meet Morgana,” Merlin says, crossing his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gaba,” the dragon replies, bowing her head politely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aithusa is a dragon. She’s learning how to fly, but she hasn't quite worked out how to take off yet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But to his shock, she chooses that moment to finally work out how to do it. Lifting her wings high, she sends herself up into the air, flapping ecstatically, before flying around Morgana’s head, and settling on Morgana’s shoulders, nuzzling at her hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like she’s a quick learner, aren’t you, sweeting?” Morgana murmurs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin’s suspicions deepen because of the fact that Morgana is responding to this incursion not with cries of terror, but instead with a gentle cooing sound. When she starts to tickle the sensitive skin behind Aithusa’s crest, he knows he’s right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew it! Oh, God. Gaius, you crafty old goat.” Evidently Gwen has reached the same conclusion. She shakes her head, opening her own bag. “I suppose this won’t come as much of a surprise, then. I’d like you to meet… Drogan. And guess what? He’s learning how to fly.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, out pops a tiny, iridescent blue head, followed by a pair of rainbow wings. Merlin can’t help barking out a laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drogan?” Arthur snorts. “Imaginative name for a dragon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, Arthur,” says Morgana, with a haughty lift of her chin. “He’s very sensitive. Drogan, meet my brother, Arthur. He’s very annoying.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Farter! Vaynoying!” says Drogan, perching on the edge of the bag. He’s a good six inches smaller than Aithusa, with a cute little snaggle tooth that reminds Merlin of Arthur, although obviously he’d never tell the prat that. “Vaynoying. Vaynoying.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, </span>
  <span>Drogan sends himself hurtling up into the air, wings flapping madly, tail whipping around him. Aithusa follows, chirruping excitedly, and the two dragons describe excited arcs around the courtyard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not now, Drogan!” cries Morgana, chasing after them both. “Not here! We’ll get found out! Come back!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aithusa, come back here!” yells Merlin, following suit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it’s too late. The two dragons are having too much fun. They dance complicated aerobatics around the courtyard, while their human carers caper after them, shrieking and darting from side to side in a vain attempt to catch them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That does it,” Merlin cries, after an unsuccessful lunge that results in him sprawling headlong onto the cobblestones for the umpteenth time. “I’m going to kill Gaius!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare,” pants Morgana, swiping ineffectually at Drogan’s tail. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whyever not?” Arthur is chasing after a crowing Aithusa, trying to catch him with Merlin’s open satchel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m going to kill him first!” With a sudden burst of energy, Morgana shrieks, taking a dive at Drogan, which he evades with a skilful dart to the side, leaving her in a heap on the floor next to Merlin, chest heaving with exertion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no need for anyone to murder anyone!” cries Gwen. “Honestly! Have you learned nothing about caring for wild creatures? You need to be calm, and stop making all that racket and fuss!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking her head, Gwen lets out a low, melodious sound, holding out both hands. While the rest of them have all been occupied chasing the baby dragons, she has taken the time to don thick leather blacksmiths' gauntlets, and is now holding out a raw sausage on each palm. In response to her voice, both dragons swoop down, each picking a sausage up in his or her claw, and settle happily on Gwen’s shoulders to eat them with birdlike movements of their muzzles and claws.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps you might like to read him some of your poetry, Arthur?” she adds, with a winsome smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin exchanges a rueful smile with the others. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You always have been the smartest out of all of us, Gwen,” he says. “It’s nice to see that the dragons know that too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>END</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: These are not my characters, and I'm not getting paid for this work.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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